Candy Daddy
OR, MY FEZ
Candy Daddy sneaks into my room at night
"Don't tell mommy," Candy Daddy says.
He has to give me candy when I ask for some
Or anything I want. A doll. A kitten. A fez.
"Candy Daddy, get me an ice cream cone,"
I demand, and narrow my eyes.
"Very well, my tiny trollop."
Candy Daddy grins. All the same,
I often pray he dies.
"Dear Jesus," goes my prayer, "Would you mind
Killing Candy Daddy before he sneaks in my room?
I know it's wrong to want it, but it would be so kind
Of you to introduce him to some painful doom."
So far my prayer has gone unanswered
And Candy Daddy tells me "Make no noise!"
Then come the dawn I gladly don my fez
And eat caramels and play with toys.
I'm pretty sure when I grow up
I will never want to play with boys
Candy Daddy rubs me wrong, and rubs me raw,
And makes me want to run away with my kitten
To Illinois.
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